The Weight of a Dream
Cheol-jun had actually heard about that lady from his father.
If she's on your side, she'll be more reliable than anyone. But unless she approaches you first, leave her out of your network for now. However, if she does come to you first, you can put her in Tier 1 of trust. You can rely on her even more than Uncle Hyeong-man.
Wow. She really is someone amazing.
Searching the internet for information on the lady he had met yesterday, Cheol-jun's eyes went wide.
Her journey—starting as a singer in her youth, transitioning to acting, overcoming a brief slump, and rising triumphantly to become one of Korea's representative stars—was truly spectacular.
On top of that, her achievements as a director of one of Korea's top entertainment agencies were staggering.
Cheol-jun swallowed hard.
She didn't look like that at all yesterday...
He looked up her interview clips and talk show appearances; though she had the exact same face as the lady he saw yesterday, she seemed like a completely different person.
Cheol-jun smirked.
Perfect. When she comes over later, I can ask her all sorts of things.
For now, he had secured a reliable solution.
Now, it was time to listen to this "K-Pop" thing.
He had listened to plenty of music before.
He had heard a lot of Chinese music and pop songs, and even a few Korean songs.
But he had never really paid close attention back then.
A live performance?
Cheol-jun found a video and clicked on it.
It was a stage performance by K-Max, currently the top idol group in Korea.
Whoa...
Seven members were performing the exact same movements in perfect unison, with almost zero margin of error.
The angle of their arms, the timing of their head turns, down to the exact millisecond their feet touched the stage.
He couldn't even begin to fathom how much practice it took to achieve that level of precision.
The camera zoomed in on one of the members' faces.
He looked completely out of breath, yet he was smiling radiantly.
How can someone make an expression like that while moving so violently?
Cheol-jun's eyes grew wider and wider.
So that's an idol...
Dazzling, flashing lights, endless bursts of pyrotechnics, and at the center of it all, seven boys radiating tireless, explosive energy.
Their sweat-drenched faces shone brilliantly.
Every single gesture, every single note of their voices held his eyes and ears captive.
The camera panned, mimicking the gaze of the idols on stage.
Below the stage, tens of thousands of roaring, ecstatic fans came into view.
At the sight of that overwhelming heat, Cheol-jun's heart suddenly began to pound.
His mouth parted slightly.
An emotion he had never experienced before spread rapidly from the depths of his chest.
The incredible spectacle of tens of thousands of eyes locked onto a single stage, their collective emotions exploding at a single gesture from an idol.
Without realizing it, Cheol-jun reached out and clenched his hand toward the screen.
Just imagining the moment of gripping the hearts of tens of thousands of people simultaneously from that stage sent a massive rush of dopamine flooding through his brain.
How thrilling must that feel?
Cheol-jun blinked blankly.
Then, he slowly nodded.
In truth, he had been tilting his head in confusion until just moments ago.
He hadn't been able to comprehend why so many trainees endured such immense absurdity, holding out inside a system that was utterly unpredictable and volatile.
But now, he understood.
When he analyzed the idol system logically, he saw far too many negative aspects. But witnessing an actual performance made him realize there was something powerful enough to completely offset those flaws.
Cheol-jun replayed the video, then played it again.
This emotion was something logic could never dissect.
Even though he had already analyzed and memorized every single dance move and vocal note, he kept wanting to watch it.
He had never watched the same thing repeatedly before, but this was different.
Until now, Cheol-jun had tried to understand the world through structures, but this stage could never be understood that way.
The precision of the knife-like choreography, the wave of energy reacting from tens of thousands of people simultaneously, the flawless, beautiful voices and ecstatic expressions maintained through grueling movements.
Each element could be analyzed individually, but the synergy created when they merged defied any logical breakdown.
Cheol-jun couldn't quite define the feeling of this moment, but he could vaguely sense it.
A sensation that could only be grasped by accepting it with pure emotion, rather than analyzing or perfectly understanding it.
S-So cool...!
Something felt not through the brain, but solely through the heart.
It was a truly captivating world.
For the first time, mathematics was completely useless.
Not a single formula, not a single number came to mind.
Cheol-jun could barely sit still.
Wow. Arin's dream is truly incredible.
Suddenly, Arin's dark, gloomy face flashed in his mind.
She was chasing such a beautiful dream, yet she didn't look happy at all.
He had recently witnessed Si-woo's transformation.
That feeling had been incredibly thrilling.
I wish Arin could enjoy it too...
Cheol-jun moved his mouse and began investigating Fine Entertainment.
On the surface, it looked just like any other agency.
However, when he searched the agency through the National Tax Service and the Popular Culture and Arts Planning Industry registry, something seemed off.
Before long, Cheol-jun's brow furrowed deeply.
This was not a normal agency.
How do I convey this to Arin?
There was a high probability that Arin already knew.
The symptoms of anxiety he had observed in her might not have been solely due to the pressure of practicing.
She had seemed like she felt something was wrong but was unable to speak about it.
If he told someone in that state, "That place is sketchy," what would happen?
Putting himself in Arin's shoes, he calculated the various possibilities.
If Arin already knew, it could end up hurting her.
Because it would expose the fact that she knew but was trapped and couldn't leave.
In a way, it might be a painful secret she wanted to hide.
If she didn't know, that was also a major problem.
Because his words might shatter everything she had believed in and the dreams she had inflated.
This was slightly different from the mistake he made when he first approached Si-woo.
Back then, he had meddled hastily without enough information, straining their relationship.
This time, however, he had the information, but having it didn't mean he could just blurt it out.
Above all, Cheol-jun had no way of knowing how her contract was structured.
Even if she wanted to leave, they must have set up some trap to prevent her from doing so easily.
One way or another, there was nothing he could do with his own strength alone.
He had made his logical judgment, but this was not a task an elementary schooler could handle.
Cheol-jun scrunched up his nose.
There was no need to overcomplicate things.
Because one thing was certain.
Arin should not be there.
As long as the outcome is good, that's all that matters.
It was crucial that Arin could move toward her dream with a joyful heart.
He had learned from Ga-yeong's case.
That utilizing his father's network was also a capability.
This was a matter that required borrowing the strength of an adult.
What time did that lady say she was coming?
Cheol-jun raised an eyebrow.
***
"Look, Arin. I've told you this before. You need to increase your vocal training hours. See? The other kids come in on weekends and sing for four hours. Then they do another four hours of choreography training before they finally go home. Do you really think you can catch up to them with such a half-hearted attitude? Do you think I'm doing this for my own benefit? Honestly, if you're going to be like this, why did you even start?"
Arin hung her head, biting her lower lip tightly.
She wanted to practice.
She could do ten hours, not just four.
But the training fees and practice room rental fees were too expensive.
Even now, if she asked her parents for more money, she knew it would be a burden. Her parents hadn't been pleased about her joining an agency in the first place.
"If you keep this up, the company won't be able to look after you later. It's only right to give more opportunities to the kids who work hard. I told you, you have talent. Are you just going to let it go to waste? Talk to your parents again. You're so close to a breakthrough, it breaks my heart to see you stall like this."
Arin was starting to notice.
That this agency was strange.
At first, she had signed the contract out of pure excitement, but after joining, she slowly realized something was off.
The vocal teacher, who had initially praised her great voice and said she only needed an hour of polishing, kept pressuring her to increase her training hours. The dance teacher began criticizing and nitpicking her over things that made no sense.
She noticed that the kids who received praise had one thing in common: they were all taking full-time lessons.
She realized too late.
This agency made its money by milking trainees this way.
"Why aren't you answering me? Do you not want to practice? Should we cancel the contract? Sigh, kids these days have no sense of responsibility. Do you think a contract is a joke? Do you have any idea how much money has been spent on your training so far?"
She had recently seen a kid who tried to quit because they couldn't take it anymore.
She heard they had to pay a massive penalty fee, forced to return every single cent the company had "invested" in them.
She should have researched thoroughly before convincing her parents.
But back then, the CEO and the trainers had all seemed like angels. Even her parents had been fooled.
Above all, she had loved that they acknowledged the songs she wrote.
But once she signed, the songs she had stayed up nights humming and writing were treated as garbage, and she was treated as a talentless beginner who had to relearn everything from scratch.
She was a fool to fall for their sweet talk.
Now that she thought about it, maybe she was just an empty shell with no talent at all.
Leaving the agency was a problem, but having to admit defeat was agonizing.
She wanted to escape this place so badly.
She never wanted to think about idols ever again.
Suddenly, she missed the old days.
She missed when Ha-eun would sing the songs she wrote, and they would make up choreography and film videos together.
Ha-eun had always told her that her songs were great.
Back then, she didn't have a single worry.
Her vision blurred.
"Anyway, time's up for today, so go home. And make sure you talk to your parents. At this rate, you're just wasting your talent and time. See you tomorrow."
It was a pressure she had heard countless times.
Arin walked toward the exit without raising her head, her eyes brimming with tears.
"She has no spine. What's she going to do in life? Tsk."
Hearing the voice behind her, she squeezed her eyes shut, and tears fell.
***
"So, when tens of thousands of people are staring at them like that, what do those hyungs feel on stage?"
"..."
"They sing the same song every time, but why does it feel different every single time? What kind of emotion is it after the stage ends? Is the 'you' on stage the real you, or is the 'you' off stage the real you? You're a completely different person on TV too, Auntie!"
"..."
"Why does it feel different listening alone versus with tens of thousands of people? Why does the emotion grow larger when there are more people? Do you lose yourself in a crowd, or do you become bigger?"
"..."
"The moment tens of thousands of people feel the same thing, do they temporarily become one? Can someone be lonely in that moment? Is that the real reason people go to concerts?"
"..."
Choi Yeon-mi, who had stopped by with a bunch of groceries to feed Cheol-jun something healthy, blinked in a daze at the sudden barrage of questions.
Were these really questions a fifth grader would pour out?
More than that...
Why is he so excited?
He was bouncing around with excitement, and his energy was no joke. Could watching a single performance video make him this hyped?
In any case, it seemed he had found out how amazing she was.
Yesterday, she hadn't said anything because it felt awkward to brag when he didn't even recognize her.
But seeing him throw questions at her with such sparkling eyes was incredibly cute. The questions didn't even register; she just wanted to pinch his soft-looking cheeks.
"Now, Cheol-jun? Say 'Mom.' Then I'll answer everything."
"..."
Stubborn little thing...
Yeon-mi scrunched her nose, and Hyeong-man, who was watching from the sofa, chuckled.
"So, you have that many questions after watching the performance?"
"Yes!"
"Want me to let you meet those hyungs later?"
"Yes!"
"Say 'Mom.'"
"..."
"Hmph."
Cheol-jun narrowed his eyes slightly.
He had set the mood. Now, it was time to get to the main point.
"Do you happen to know Fine Entertainment?"
"Why?"
"A classmate of mine is a trainee there."
At that, Yeon-mi recalled someone.
"Really? Oh, right. Do you know a girl named Ha-eun?"
"I do!"
"Are you close?"
"No!"
"Then, are you close to the kid at Fine?"
"Uh, yes! Her name is Arin, and I'm close to her."
I'm close to her? What kind of phrasing was that? Yeon-mi chuckled.
"Is she pretty?"
"Yes!"
"Oh. Girlfriend?"
"Um, just a female classmate. A girl friend!"
"Hmm? Alright. Hold on, let me ask around."
Yeon-mi pulled out her phone and dialed a number.
"Hey, Hyun-woo. Do you know a place called Fine? Yeah, an agency."
Yeon-mi's brow furrowed slightly.
"I see. Got it. Ah, find out their location and contact info. No, just find out for now. Yeah."
Hanging up, Yeon-mi scrunched her nose and let out a sigh.
How was she supposed to explain this to a kid...
While she was worrying, Cheol-jun blinked his round eyes and spoke first.
"Is it a place that recruits trainees just to make money off lesson fees?"
"......Huh?"
"I looked into it. They barely have any performance history. They have a lot of trainees, but they've only debuted one artist in the last five years. Also, when I checked their business registration with the National Tax Service, they're registered as an academy, and they aren't on the Korea Creative Content Agency's registry for popular culture and arts planning businesses."
Choi Yeon-mi blinked.
He had already researched all of that?
They said he was smart, but this is incredible.
Her manager, Tak Hyun-woo, had just told her the exact same rumors.
Yeon-mi nodded.
"Well, it's not confirmed, but yes, it's something like that. It's a shady place."
Cheol-jun pouted.
"I knew it. They shouldn't play with people's dreams like that."
"Exactly. You're right."
There were plenty of those parasites in the industry.
Scum who exploited kids and parents, taking their money while holding their futures hostage.
Usually, she'd just ignore them like pests. But this time, Cheol-jun's friend was involved.
Seeing his pouty face, she couldn't just let it go.
Cheol-jun narrowed his eyes and stared at Yeon-mi.
"Is there a way to handle this?"
Choi Yeon-mi raised an eyebrow.
"A way?"
She tilted her chin up slightly.
"Too many. So many that I'm having trouble choosing which one to use."
Those places always had dirty laundry.
She usually avoided them because they were filthy, but as someone who knew the industry inside out, crushing them would be a breeze.
Cheol-jun's eyes went wide. "Whoa!"
Choi Yeon-mi shrugged and smiled.
"Say 'Mom.'"
Cheol-jun hesitated for a moment.
But he couldn't get help for free.
"......M...Mom?"
"Aww! Good boy!"
Cheol-jun grinned.
This much was easy.
"Can I pinch your cheek just once?"
Cheol-jun instantly wiped the smile off his face and shook his head firmly.
I should save that for when I need to ask for an even bigger favor, he thought.